


It Takes One Sip

by Mysenia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kind of AU, M/M, fic prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:43:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU - Off of Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes One Sip

It happens around 2am. Stiles is driving along because he can't sleep, he doesn't have insomnia but he doesn't like where his dreams take him so some nights he opts not to sleep. He's not too worried about driving along by himself in the middle of the night as he's super-warded his baby against everything he can think of. Wolfsbane infused paint? Check. Runes against witches? You betcha. Sun-magicked headlights? YEAH FUCK YOU VAMPIRES. Safe to say, Stiles is quite comfortable aimlessly driving around town.

He's not expecting anything to come stumbling out in front of him so he drives right into and over the large form that is suddenly on the road. Stiles' stomach turns with the crunching sound that floats up from under his tires and he swerves quickly to the side of the road. He's not exactly sure what he just hit and he's weary of getting out of the car in case it's unexpectedly supernatural. He reaches into the back of his car and grabs his bat - never goes anywhere without the thing - and his trusty fanny pack of mountain ash because Deaton has been teaching him some super awesome new techniques with it.

The lump is non-moving and Stiles is slightly heartened by that - though not enough to relax. He's about 10 paces off when the thing moves and he hears a decidedly human groan. Panicked that the lump may in fact be a squishy bones-break-but-don't-heal-in-seconds human, Stiles rushes over. The potential human is laying on its stomach and Stiles is unwilling to move it for fear of worsening its wounds.

"Can you speak?" Stiles asks even while knowing the futility of it. Only a groan answers him as Stiles gets out his phone to call an ambulance - he wants to help even knowing this squishy human probably doesn't have much longer; he'll let that thought eat him alive later but for right now he has to keep it together. Stiles has two numbers dialed before he's stopped by a hand grabbing his ankle while a pair of very familiar blue eyes look at it. Stiles clears the numbers before they form a whole and reassesses the situation.

"Peter?" Stile can't help but ask even though he can plainly see that it is in fact Peter. Questions fly through his head but he's learned to prioritize and those questions can wait. Knowing now that the lump is in fact a will-heal-with-time werewolf Stiles is comfortable rolling Peter over to assess the rest of him. Stiles can see the burns along Peter's side from his impact with the car - Stiles will exult in that paint actually working later. Stiles can also see that Peter is in fact not healing. Can see where Peter's femur is sticking out of his right thigh; where Peter's left arm appears to not only be broken but dislocated as well; where Peter's face is one big ol' road rash reminiscent of his burn scar days.

"What in the actual fuck? Dude, you should not have this many injuries just from my car hitting you." Stiles can feel his pulse start to race as Peter's body continues to stay broken. Scenario after scenario play through Stiles mind as to what could be the cause of this and none of them are good. Peter's eyes have shut, his groaning the only indication that he's even conscious - if completely incoherent.

Stiles grabs his phone and hits speed-dial 1, not caring for the late hour. By the fourth ring Stiles can feel his anxiety rocketing. He may not be Peter's biggest fan but he doesn't want the guy dead. Finally the click of the line comes through and Stiles momentarily lets relief flood his system.

"To what do I owe the dubiously unfortunate pleasure of receiving this call Mr. Stilinski?" Deaton's voice is nothing if not even and calm, though Stiles would bet anything that his face says otherwise.

"It's Peter. I ran him over with my car - the wolfsbane paint works wonders by the way - and he's not healing. Like broken bones sticking out of his body, road rash to end all road rashes, incoherent except for the odd groan not healing." Stiles finishes on a wheeze, his anxiety has turned to panic. Peter's grip on his ankle has gone slack and Stiles realizes that he can only faintly detect the sound of breath filling and leaving Peter's lungs.

"I'll need you to bring him to the clinic Mr. Stilinski. I'll meet you there." Deaton hangs up before Stiles can ask how he's supposed to get a 200lb unconscious werewolf into his car without potentially damaging him even more.

Stiles gives himself a moment to breathe before running to his car to take stock of what he has that will potentially help him. Seeing a towel in the trunk Stiles grabs it, deciding he'll have to roll Peter onto it and drag him to the car. It's not far, only about 20 paces, but Stiles knows it's going to hurt - especially since Peter will be face down as the easiest way to get him onto the towel will be to simply roll him over. There's nothing to do but to get it over with as quickly as possible so Stiles doesn't give any more though to it and just does it. Peter doesn't make a sound as his body is rolled and dragged, Stiles reminds himself to breathe.

Stiles' next dilemma is presented in the form of deciding how to get Peter into the car. Stiles decides the trunk will be the easiest place to put him and goes about sitting Peter up, draping the towel between Peter and the jeep so that he's not further burned by the paint. Taking a step back Stiles shakes out his body before crouching down, wrapping his arms around Peter's chest and lifting with his knees to bring Peter into a standing position. Stiles tries to gently lay Peter down in the trunk but he mostly ends up dumping Peter's body back while trying to keep himself upright. Muttering a "Sorry Peter", Stiles shuffles the rest of Peter's body into the trunk before gently closing the door and getting into the front seat.

Stiles tries to drive quickly but smoothly and he makes it to the clinic with no sounds coming from the trunk, he decides its a good thing that Peter is unconscious because that means Peter won't have felt each tiny bump and shift. Deaton is standing at the back door with a metal exam table that has wheels, while not as good as a gurney Stiles is grateful for it. Getting Peter onto the table and into the clinic is much easier and Stiles finally feels himself relaxing while he waits to hear Deaton's prognosis. He contemplates calling the pack but since Deaton doesn't appear all too alarmed Stiles decides the pack can wait until morning to hear about this newest Peter fiasco.

 

Stiles is tapping his phone against his thigh, leaning against the wall while he watches Deaton, Peter still hasn't regained consciousness. Stiles has reached his limit for holding in his questions and opens his mouth to interrogate the doc when Deaton turns around.

"I've reset his bones and his arm. Now there's nothing to do but wait." Deaton tells Stiles then turns around to clean himself up.

"And? Are you going to tell me why he isn't, or will that be wasn't, healing?" Stiles asks while walking closer to the examination table where Peter is still laying so still. Stiles cannot see any healing happening.

"It appears that he is drunk. As you know werewolves can only get drunk by imbibing in wolfsbane infused alcohol and he seems to have consumed quite a bit going by his almost non-existent healing." Deaton says, turning around with what is clearly an unimpressed look on his face. "I will be going home as I now only have a few hours left before I have to be back here. Peter should be fine in a day or two." Deaton stops at the incredulous look Stiles sends his way.

"Yes Mr. Stilinski, a day or two. Peter's natural healing abilities still have not kicked in which indicates that he was well and truly, as you would put it, shit-faced. He will be fine where he is. You may go home or stay here." Deaton grabs his coat as he's talking, heading towards the door. "Do lock up behind yourself if you're leaving. Goodnight Mr. Stilinski." And with that Deaton is out the door.

Stiles sighs, fiddling with his phone while he weighs the pros and cons of staying. He knows he won't be getting any more sleep, he's too curious as to what could have lead to Peter to this point, but he also knows that his body will be experiencing the adrenaline crash soon. Stiles shrugs, figuring it might be nice for Peter to wake up with someone by his side - thoughts of a lone man waking up after a lengthy coma flit through his brain - and goes to grab some of the extra blankets Deaton keeps in the back for the animals. Stiles rolls one up and puts it under Peters head and drapes another one over his body before situating himself on the lone chair in the room and gearing himself up to playing around on his phone for a couple of hours.

\----

It's three hours later when Deaton strolls back through the doors and Peter is still the same though the road rash appears to have receded a bit. He glances into the room, sees Stiles still there and nods at him. Stiles gives him a thumbs up. Since nothing major has changed Stiles doesn't feel the need to say anything and the thumbs up seems to be enough to satisfy Deaton as the man walks back out the room to continue on his day as a regular ol' vet. Stiles figures that since Deaton is back he can send a mass text to the pack to let them know what's happened and hopes that someone will respond to the text so he can ask them to come take over watching Peter so he can go home.

Stiles receives various "Ok" messages and an "Idiot." from Derek but no one wants to come see Peter. Stiles bristles a bit at this lack of caring for their packmate, whether he's wanted or not, and finds himself grumbling to himself under his breath. It takes Deaton sticking his head into the room and reminding him that Peter will be alright, he just basically needs to sleep it off, for Stiles to remember that Peter is in this position because he was drunk and not attacked. Stiles sends silent apologies to the rest of the pack for the rude thoughts he had about them and makes his way home for some much needed food and sleep.

\---

After a 4 hour snooze Stiles finds himself awake and itching to go back to see Peter. It's the knowledge that no one else from the pack will go see him that decides Stiles and he finds himself back at the clinic, armed with curly fries and burgers enough for three. Stiles figures it's the least he can give to Deaton for his help and he knows Peter will be feeling the hangover munchies if he's awake. Deaton accepts the food and Stiles' thanks with a nod and Stiles soon finds himself entering Peter's temporary living quarters. Though Peter is laying motionless on the table Stiles can already see a marked improvement. All the road rash covering his face is gone and the slight pain lines in his face seem to have eased. As Stiles is pulling out his burger and curly fries he hears movement behind him.

"Some of that food better be for me." Peter states as Stiles turns around and finds Peter looking over at him. Stiles raises an eyebrow at Peter.

"Can you even sit up?" Stiles asks, choosing to ignore the snark in Peter's voice. Though Peter got himself drunk, Stiles was the one to hit him and Stiles does feel guilty about that.

Grunting, Peter tries to sit up but only manages a minute movement before his face turns white and he lays himself back down. Stiles just shakes his head knowing that Peter will not deign to ask for his help. Instead of saying anything Stiles goes and grabs more blankets and, without giving Peter an option, uses the blankets to help prop Peter up. If the werewolf wants to recover faster he's going to need food in his system and he'll only get the food if he accepts Stiles' help.

Peter doesn't make a comment and Stiles chooses to ignore the look aimed his way as he grabs Peters food. After they're both settled with the their food Stiles decides to give Peter a chance to really dig in before he asks the question that's been on the tip of his tongue since the early hours of the morning. It takes about 10 minutes, Stiles squirming and tapping his leg the entire time, before Stiles can no longer contain himself and he blurts out his question.

"What drove you to drink so much that even your werewolf metabolism and healing haven't been able to fully counteract the effects yet?" Stiles only notices that Peter has stopped chewing because he is staring so intently at Peter, mentally crossing his fingers that Peter will actually give him a response.

"It was my anniversary last night." Peter responds, voice quiet.

Stiles releases the breath he was holding. Stiles was not expecting that, though if asked Stiles would not have been able to give a clear answer of what he thought Peter might say. Though Peter's voice did not quaver Stiles detects the echo of pain in the unspoken details that one sentence revealed.

Stiles has known Peter, killed and brutalized Peter in a way Kate Argent was never able, and not once has he heard or seen Peter display any heart-wrenching pain. Peter has spoken of revenge, of loss, and of pain but never with such feeling that Stiles had ever been able to relate. It's that one sentence that takes root, digs deep and clings, to Stiles heart and opens him up to the understanding that Peter is just like any other being.

Almost as if a door has been opened in his mind Stiles finds himself fully accepting Peter, finds himself - probably for the first time - seeing Peter for what and who he truly is. It's at once beautiful and heartbreaking. 

Peter continued to eat as if he hadn't just dropped a truth bomb on Stiles and for lack of anything better to do Stiles finished his food without further comment. Peter only glanced in Stiles' direction once more after that comment and when he was done his food he slowly moved the extra blankets and rolled onto his side, his back facing Stiles. Finished, Stiles grabbed up their wrappers and went to throw them out. He stepped outside for a moment, needing the fresh air, before making his way back to Peter.

Peter had not moved and though Stiles knew they would have no more conversations that day he did not want to leave Peter alone.

Stiles played on his phone and kept an eye on Peter while he slept. A few times more Deaton came to check on Peter, telling Stiles that Peter was healing slowly but surely and that he was more than welcome to leave as Peter would be fine but the next morning.

Perhaps it was because that was the first time Stiles had ever seen Peter vulnerable but he found himself unwilling to leave, wanting to keep Peter company even if all Peter did was sleep. Hours passed, Stiles left to get dinner - soup for everyone - and Peter finally told Stiles to leave. No more conversation was had between the two but for Stiles' parting words.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning."

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first time I’ve ever written a fic based off a fic prompt but I thought I’d give it a go. I know it may not continue the story but I think it shows a beginning to a start of a new relationship between the two. I actually like it.


End file.
